Open
by Rydd Rider
Summary: "Open... When had he ever been?"  Set after TAC.


**This is my first fanfic in the AF fandom. Tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Artemis Fowl or anything associated with him. That's probably Eoin Colfer you're thinking of.**

Holly Short sat, bored, exactly where she had been told to, in the blind spot directly under the camera. Apparently her sitting there motionless for what seemed like ages was 'essential' to her part in Artemis Fowl's 'plan'.

As for what this plan of his was supposed to accomplish, Holly didn't know yet. All she knew was that she'd been sitting here in the camera's blind spot, shielded, in front of a building for nearly forty-five minutes without having even been contacted yet. She let out an exasperated sigh and a human passerby looked around curiously for the source for a moment before moving bemusedly on. Holly slid her visor down to prevent further noise.

Her eyes wandered across the street to a quaint little grassy park. A little out of place, perhaps, but a bit of green in a concrete city was never a bad thing.

A woman walked across the grass holding a squirming child of perhaps two years old, presumably her own son. Both had black hair and the mother had a relaxed disposition, though she held her child with no less love for the fact. Holly watched her as, with a smile, she lowered her little boy to the grass to let him play. The little boy looked up at her and, though she couldn't see for certain, Holly assumed he smiled. He turned slowly, taking everything in around him with big blue eyes that Holly could see with the help of her visor. Black hair and blue eyes…

Rather like another Mud Boy she knew.

Holly tried to compare the little boy to Artemis, but she couldn't see practically anything the two could possibly have in common besides the black hair and blue eyes. Then the little boy wound up tripping over perfectly flat ground and she revised her opinion with a grin—they both had two left feet.

Holly sighed again, this one muted by the helmet. Why was she trying to find similarities between a two-year-old child and a fifteen-year-old criminal mastermind? She answered herself almost immediately. Because that fifteen-year-old criminal mastermind was making her sit here for _Frond_ knew how long doing absolutely _nothing_, that was why, Holly nearly growled to herself. If only to distract herself from her annoyance, she reverted back to her earlier task: finding similarities between Artemis and Apollo. She'd decided on this name because, like in mythology, the two appeared to nearly be twins, albeit twins very different in age.

It posed difficult. Besides the looks and the clumsiness, the only thing Holly could even guess they had in common was that not many would understand either of them. Apollo because he was only two and was probably only just beginning to grasp the rudiments of language and Artemis because he always got so technical that only Foaly could get what he was saying half of the time. Finally, Holly gave up the search. She couldn't find anything else similar.

So why not something different? As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Holly nearly felt like slapping herself. They were two and fifteen, a mere child and a genius, and, as their names—or nicknames—implied, different as night and day. But frankly, Holly was bored out of her mind, so she went right on ahead.

Neglecting the obvious ones, Holly tried to look deeper into it, to try to find something that truly differed rather than merely was under- or over-developed. She zeroed in her visor sights to be able to see Apollo a bit easier. He floundered across the grass, merely enjoying himself.

Difference number one she saw in him frolicking: Apollo could just have fun. Artemis always had some ulterior motive shoved up his sleeve.

Apollo stared in wonder as he came across a dandelion, touching a tentative finger to the tiny, bright yellow petals. With one pudgy little hand, he yanked up the flower and wandered back to his mother. He held it up to her excitedly with wide, happy blue eyes and a smile nearly too big for his face. His mother smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

Difference number two she saw in him and the dandelion: Apollo could take the simple joys and make them his own. He didn't have to dissect something if he didn't know what it was, merely touch it, see it.

Difference number three she saw in his wide, happy eyes: Innocence. Apollo had an undefiled innocence that Artemis could never claim. He'd done too many things that no one should ever be proud of, too many things that people had been hurt by.

Little Apollo opened his small arms to the very limits of his pixie-sized reach. His mother obliged and scooped him up into her arms. She tossed him up a little ways and then caught him; Apollo squealed in ecstasy. She repeated the action and he screeched his enjoyment all the louder. She laughed and brought him close to her face, touching her nose to his. Apollo shook his head energetically, creating the image of a cub nuzzling a mother. Apollo's mother nuzzled back, then carried him out of the park and away from Holly's sight line.

Difference number four she saw in his joy in the toss-and-catch game: Apollo trusted his mother absolutely, the natural instinct of so many species—including humans and nearly all species of fairy, except trolls. Artemis, however, didn't. Before it had been his affiliation with the People that he'd kept secret from her, and now he was so paranoid thanks to his Atlantis Complex that he couldn't say a word around her without wondering what she was up to.

Difference number five she saw in his and his mother's affectionate nuzzle: they loved each other doubtlessly and evidently. While Angeline loved her son and was not afraid to be obvious about it, Artemis had either been quite subtle or simply not shown it at all. It was a fear of showing weakness that little Apollo didn't have, and hopefully never would.

There was one more thing that nudged at the edge of her mind. One sixth difference, but one that she couldn't quite find the word for. She'd seen it when Apollo had looked up to his mother, his small arms stretched wide open—

That was it. Open. Apollo was open, and Artemis never was. Never could be?

For the first time, Holly found herself wondering not what was going on in her friend's head at the moment, but what had gone on in it in the past. She knew that Artemis Senior was a good man, but she'd heard from Butler that he'd changed a lot. How good had he been before? What kind of effect had he had on his son if the Artemis that was her friend had been so heartless? Holly found it hard to believe that it had been his initial nature.

But while she doubted that he had naturally had such a terrible nature, had the genius ever been like Apollo? A child who never needed anything that his parents couldn't give? No drive for brilliance, no hunger for power, no thirst for gold, no craving for every knowledge there was?

Apollo was completely open, the exact opposite of closed off, secretive, often cold Artemis.

Artemis. Open… When had he ever been?

**Please review! It helps to hear what others think!**

**-Rydd Rider**


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